The ascendance of the hellhound
by Valarwriter
Summary: After the explosion, none of the other soldiers really understood how he walked away from the crater unharmed. Apart from his military uniform and the ashes on his face and body, there wasn't anything about him which could give away the fact that he'd just been in an enormous cloud of fire... I do NOT own Teen wolf in any way (otherwise there'd be new seasons coming up).
1. Chapter 1: ascension

**My first chapter! Hope you guys like it :) I tried to keep Jordan in character, but my apologies if he seems OC. **

**Q out!**

_-Somewhere in the wastelands of Afghanistan, two sets of military humvees are driving towards a small village-_

"For God's sake man, can you PLEASE turn off the damn radio? We've been listening to the same song for three hours!". Private Calavera annoyingly demanded with a slight Mexican accent.

"Sure thing, compadré". Private Hennison mockingly responded. They were on their way to an isolated village where, according to an anonymous source, rebel soldiers were hiding.

"C' mon guys, we still have a long road ahead of us so it's best to at least try to get along. Hennison, just try to find another radio station or so help me I will stop this car and dismantle the entire damn thing myself". Private Parrish said while laughing. The three soldiers were part of a 'Hazardous device team', meaning they dealt with bombs and explosives. There was another car that followed them. They were the team of soldiers that were to escort the bomb squad to the village.

After a few minutes of listening to a new song, Calavera asked: "Parrish, where are you going after we get out of this hellhole?".

"Back to base, I guess". Parrish answered uninterestedly.

"No, I mean, after we get out of Afghanistan". He said rapidly. Parrish went silent for a moment. He didn't have an answer for that. He hadn't even thought about it. Before he signed up for the army, he'd been searching for some kind of purpose for a long time. He had hoped that joining the army would give him that purpose, but it turned out it was more of a distraction.

"PARRISH!" Calavera shouted. "What what?!" Parrish answered as he returned to the moment. "I asked you what you were planning on doing once we get out of this place, the polite thing to do is answer me you ass. Are you getting enough rest?" Calavera said.

"I'm fine. I just got lost in thoughts for a moment. And to answer your question, I don't really know. It's not like they hand out jobs for ex-military men like us you know. Maybe I go and look for my family. It's been a while. Not that that is any of your business". He added jokingly.

"Whatever man, I just wanted to start a conversation"."Yeah, we know because you hardly ever shut up". Hennison remarked.

"It's not my fault that I am gifted with such a high level of speech". Calavera shot back.

The three men laughed for a while at that, until Private Calavera continued; "But nah for real, when I get out of here I'm gonna make a run for Europe".

A short silence followed until Hennison responded; "Are you serious? I figured you were gonna head back home to make amends with your family or something".

"Never. I meant what I said, guys. I don't want anything to do with those crazy bastards anymore". Private Calavera was Always very closed when it came down to family. He didn't like to talk about that subject. The only thing he ever entrusted upon his two companions was that his family is 'batshit crazy' and that he enlisted in the army to escape some sort of hidden cult-like part of his family. Sometimes, when they were supposed to sleep, Parrish could swear he heard Calavera say some weird stuff in his sleep. He didn't understand everything, because he would mutter the words in Spanish, his mother tongue. Some words he recognized, words like 'Lobo' and 'Cazadores' meaning 'Wolf' and 'Hunters'. He never really paid much attention to it.

While Private Calavera continued talking about which countries he would visit and which delicacies he was going to try, Parrish saw something on the road in the distance that demanded a full inspection so he slowed down the humvee until it came to a full stop.

One would think that private Hennison or private Calavera would question Parrish's sudden action, but even though they hadn't a clue what the problem was they immediately turned silent and followed Jordan's gaze. That's what strict military training will do to someone.

"_Private Parrish, what seems to be the problem? -over-_". A voice called over the crackling walkie-talkie. The car with the squad of soldiers who were escorting Parrish and his fellow companions had also come to a full stop but were now wondering what the hold-up was.

"There's something on the road, sergeant. It's just a hunch, but I think we should take a look at it. Over". Parrish answered through the walkie.

"_Copy that, private. We'll be awaiting your move. Over_".

During this short exchange of words, private Hennison had taken the binoculars to get a better look at what Parrish was talking about. "Hennison, what do you see?" Calavera asked calmly.

Private Hennison didn't immediately respond, because he was busy scanning the road in front of them. "Nothing. I don't see anything suspicious, Parrish. Why did you stop the car?" He asked nervously.

"Look again". Parrish ordered. "There's something on the road about 100 feet ahead of us. If it is what I think it is, we need to tread carefully". Parrish responded calmly, yet attentively.

While private Hennison used the binoculars to look in the direction that Parrish had told him, Calavera was silently resting his hand on his gun. He was suddenly feeling a bit eerie like his instincts were telling him that they were being watched. He didn't understand why, because there wasn't a mountain or a bush in sight where someone could be hiding. He used to get this feeling all the time when he still lived in Mexico with his aunt.

He was suddenly ripped out of his train of thoughts when private Hennison cried "Dammit, Parrish! You're delaying our trip for a pile of... Well, a fresh pile of crap! Calavera was right, you should get some more rest".

Just as Hennison was going for the walkie to signal that everything's alright, Parrish (who had not diverted his gaze from the road) grabbed his hand and said "Do you see any wells in the area?" he asked, while still looking ahead of them.

"No, there's nothing insight". Hennison answered.

"Indeed, not a drop of water for at least a few miles. So why would anyone bring their animals out here in the middle of nowhere". Parrish continued.

"Maybe it was a lonely goat or camel. Who cares? We are holding up the mission for a pile of shit, Parrish!" Hennison answered angrily. He was getting annoyed with the way Parrish was reacting. He just wanted to reach the village so he could get a fresh drink of water.

"Animals who live out here are smarter than to just wander around the desert. They follow the scent of water and they most certainly stay clear of roads. Private Calavera, signal our escort that we're going to continue slowly but we'll stop a few feet away from the obstacle".

"Phuh, 'obstacle' ". Hennison mockingly shot. He had no choice but to agree with Parrish. When someone from their squad thinks something is wrong, the others are obliged to give support.

While they continued to drive, Parrish started "Have you guys ever heard stories from the second world war in the Sahara that had to do with... Feces?" Parrish asked calmly.

Hennison and Calavera looked questioningly at each other but shook their heads to point out that they hadn't. "Well" Parrish continued, "after a few months, the Germans had developed a certain tradition where they would drive their tanks and other vehicles over camel droppings for good luck. It wasn't long before the British army got notice of this so they started hiding their explosives and mines in those droppings".

"Holy... That's harsh, stepping on a man's believe like that". Calavera responded.

"Yeah it was, but it was war. Just like we are in right now".

Suddenly Hennison and Calavera understood where Parrish was going with this. "You don't think that-".

"Only one way to find out". Parrish interrupted Hennison. When they arrived at about 50 feet away from the 'obstacle', Parrish stopped the car and everyone got out.

"I'm going in alone". Parrish declared. "If I'm wrong, only one of us will have his hands covered in crap". He added jokingly.

"That's very noble of you, Parrish but what if you're not wrong and you blow yourself sky-high?" Calavera asked with a worried voice. His eerie feeling had not dissipated, which caused the worry in his voice.

"I know what I'm doing, Calavera. And if it were to go wrong, at least I won't bring anyone down with me... But don't worry, I'll be fine". He had no idea how right he was, but also how wrong. After he had put on his equipment, he told the sergeant of his plan and proceeded to the pile of feces.

When he got there, Parrish immediately could make out faint handprints surrounding the smelling pile. When he got on his knees and slowly removed the feces, Hennison called through the walkie: "_Please tell me you were wrong so we can get to the village and laugh about this for days_".

Parrish didn't immediately respond, but after he was done he called back: "No such luck, Hennison. There's enough C4 here to blow up an entire apartment". Parrish could hear his companions slightly panicking from where he was sitting.

"_Okay Parrish, slowly walk back so we can detonate this bitch from afar_". Calavera beckoned.

"That's not an option. If we do that, the people who put this thing here will know that we are coming . Or they think we've exploded and will come to check it out. I'm going to have to defuse it". Parrish said.

"_Are you crazy?! If you say that thing can level a building, what do you think It'll do to you? Please man, I got a bad feeli-_".

"I'm sorry buddy. Over and out". Parrish said and he turned off his walkie. He could hear Calavera throw around his walkie and shout a few swear words in Spanish, which made him chuckle.

When Parrish started to defuse the bomb, it was like the world stopped spinning. Everything was silent in his head and he held his breath. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had done it a hundred times before, just never with such a huge amount of explosives. It made him nervous, but it had to be done.

Back at the humvees, Calavera's eerie feeling was beginning to take over even more. He couldn't explain what he was feeling and that was what freaked him out so much. It felt like something in the air triggered something inside him. An irrational fear you could call it, because apart from the bomb, what was there to be afraid of? He began to hear voices in his head, but he knew these voices. One of these voices was the voice of his aunt, Araya Calavera quietly telling him to shoot. Suddenly he could see himself standing over a boy, gun in his hand, pointing at the boy. He snapped back to the present, knowing what was going on.

They were suppressed feelings and memories from a long time ago making their way to the surface of his mind. Without even realizing it, he had taken his gun out and was pointing it in Parrish' direction. His face was pale and blank, but stern. Like he knew what he was doing. The sergeant noticed this and only reacted accordingly. He took out his gun and pointed it at Calavera while shouting that he had to lower his gun.

This stand-off didn' take very long because Hennison had been standing behind Calavera this entire time and knocked him in the head. This made Calavera stumble and drop his gun. He had to be restrained because he immediately crawled to his gun. As the two soldiers were holding him down, Calavera began to shout all kinds of swearwords and other kinds of words in Spanish.

Over at the bomb, Parrish could suddenly hear shouting and fighting. He wasn't about to turn around and watch what was going on, but he could make out that it was Calavera who was the starter of this. He could hear him yelling all sorts of things. Something about being watched and some other words in Spanish, but Parrish couldn't understand and he had other things to worry about right now. He was so close. So close to defusing the bomb, but he had to remain calm. He knew the mechanics of this device. It was a rather old one, which involved lots of wires. That meant that to defuse it, he had to cut some of them. It was truly an impressive mess. He cut the first wire, which he knew was the one that acted like a tripwire. He could perfectly leave the damn thing now, but if moved it could still detonate. So he chose to stay and look for the wire that set it off. It had to be the right one because if another wire was cut it could turn their surroundings into a fire-infested one.

The pressure made him anxious, but he had to remain calm. This is what he was trained to do. Then, he made the call. He had a wire, which he was certain was the one he'd been searching for. But then, something told him it wasn't the right one.

A strange feeling urged him to go for the wire next to it. It felt like he was being compelled and It pushed him to get it over with and so he did.

_Snap. _The sound of a wire being cut through. The next few seconds felt like minutes to him. This was the moment of truth. He thought he'd made the right choice, but then everything went south.

First, the clicking noise. A noise that he was so familiar with. The noise an automatic bomb makes when it's triggered before it goes off. Secondly, the burning sensation of his skin and muscles being engulfed in the fire which was now surrounding him.

There was so much fire. He didn't even felt his eardrums shattering because of the blow. There was so much pain and then there was none. His gear just melted off him in a blink of an eye. The scrap metal of the bomb just vaporized before it could touch him. He wondered for a second why he was able to see all of this before everything seemed to slow down.

He felt like he was floating. Is this what dying feels like? It was such a weird sensation. So much noise and at the same time there was no noise at all. Maybe he's already dead. After all, he had been in an explosion. Strangely, the feeling that had told him it wasn't the right wire didn't go away. It kept telling him he'd made the right choice. He was about to close his eyes when suddenly he felt the pain return but twice the amount. Like his muscles and bones were being mashed into one big pulp. The pain was excruciating and he wanted to scream, but he was finally losing consciousness. It was finally going to end. Just as his vision was blurring, he could faintly hear Calavera's voice one last time. Shouting that he saw something, while the fiery blast was heading his way. Shouting three words. _Perro del Infierno_.


	2. Chapter 2: the recalling

_"Jordan..." A low rumbling voice calls out. "Jordan Parrish..." it continued. Then, nothing. Nothing but darkness and silence, until a monstrous roar fills the void._

Jordan suddenly woke up with a cry for help. "What.. How... Where am I?!" he asked himself while looking around confused. He was familiar with this place, but he couldn't exactly coördinate himself at that moment.

The incoming sunlight hurt his eyes as they adjusted. He went to sit upright when a nurse got to him. "Shhhhh... Easy now, Jordan". The nurse soothed him.

She had heard Jordan waking up and screaming, so she wasted no time to get to him. "You're safe now, Jordan. Everything's going to be okay". She continued.

Jordan calmed down a bit but was still looking around him. He was back at his military camp, in the med base no less. He looked up at the nurse and asked "What happened? How did I get here?".

The nurse had taken a chair to sit next to Jordan's bed and said: "We found you, a few miles outside basecamp, in one of the humvees. You looked like you were in terrible shape and so was the humvee. Almost completely burned up like a crisp".

She remained quiet, as to let that sink in with him. "As to what happened," she continued "That's where you come in". She said with a sad smile. "Do you remember anything about what may have happened?"

Jordan looked down and started to dig in his chaos of a mind. He remembered flashes of the past hours. "I think I was on the road, to the village we were assigned to... But we had to stop to inspect something". He said confusingly.

"That's right" the nurse answered. "But that was three days ago, Jordan.." She said carefully.

"Three days?! No that's not right, we left just this morning for that village" Jordan said.

"Yes Jordan, that's true you left early in the morning but after a few hours there was radio silence from you and your squad and-"

"My squad!" Jordan interrupted. "Where are they? Do they know what happened? Are they okay?" he asked frantically.

The nurse's sad smile turned into a complete face of sadness while she looked down to the ground. "You should rest some more, Jordan. The rest can come later" she tried.

"Miss... Where is my squad?" Jordan asked seriously.

The nurse remained silent for a while, but then answered: "They're here Jordan, but they're not okay". She looked up at Jordan and said: "And not all of them made it.."

Jordan could swear his heart-rate just went up ten times. He vaguely remembered himself saying that the explosion could level a building. If his companions weren't standing far enough from the blow then that could mean... No, he said to himself, maybe something else happened. He took a deep breath to calm himself and asked quietly "Who died?".

The nurse picked up her courage to say the names aloud, for it had become a tradition to not say the names of those who had perished on the battlefield. Jordan never cared much for that tradition. "Two of the soldiers who were there to escort you, private Nicks and private Ballad. And one of your squad... Private Hennison".

She could barely hold her tears back. In the base, the nurses and doctors knew every single soldier. They established some kind of connection with them because they would be visited by them quite often. So when a soldier died, it was like they had lost a friend or at least a friendly neighbor. She kept talking so that she could hold back her tears a bit better "We found them a few hours after we got you here. It wasn't long before we saw the smoke". She stopped for a moment but saw that Jordan was staring at the ground while listening so she slowly continued, "There were rubble and rocks everywhere, belonging to the enormous crater no doubt. Surrounding bushes were reduced to nothing but dust and the other humvee was flipped over and still burning. The gas tank had already exploded. Those two soldiers were caught underneath it, but I can't help but think that that was some kind of mercy. If it hadn't killed them, they would have burned to death".

She paused and then went on, with tears running over her cheeks, "That is how Hennison died... He probably stood just too close to the blast. Sergeant Miller and private Calavera were found a few feet away from the humvee".

Jordan looked up at that with his eyes wide open and asked if they were alright. "They have some burns, a few broken bones but they'll live. Although, we have to keep an eye on Calavera. We think he was hit in the head with flying rubble. He has a severe concussion, but other then that nothing life-threatening".

"Can I see them? The sergeant and Calavera?".

The nurse shook her head, "That's probably not a good idea. Not with Calavera at least".

When Jordan looked at her with a questionable look on his face, she continued "We keep him sedated, but every time he wakes up he starts ranting and says delirious things about what happened".

"What does he say then?" Jordan asked suspiciously.

"Nothing worth hearing. It's not uncommon for people with head trauma to hallucinate. So you'll have to wait, seeing you could make things worse since you were there with him. But I can make an exception for sergeant Miller, he should be waking up anytime now and then I'll take you to him when you feel better".

First, Jordan wanted to argue about not being able to see his companion but he accepted when he realized it was for the best. "I'm feeling fine, you can take me to him right now," Jordan said.

"Yeah, about that". The nurse replied, "You shouldn't be fine. You should have burn marks all over your body since all of your clothes were burned off. That's why I want to know what happened. How close were you to the explosion? What set it off in the first place?" she stood up and took a position as to wait for an explanation.

However, her stand and questions made Jordan anxious. He didn't really know why, because these were rather standard questions for his case. Although he suddenly felt uncomfortable, like he was caught stealing candy out of a shop. At that moment, he would've liked nothing more than to push her aside and make a run for it. Anywhere as to just get out of this place and from under this woman's gaze. He tensed his muscles and was about to lunge for her and push her out of his way when he came to his senses.

What the hell was he thinking? Assaulting a nurse and getting the hell out of there, just because she was asking questions?

_Get a hold of yourself Parrish _he thought to himself.

He calmed his nerves and said, "To tell you the truth, miss... I have no idea what happened. I can vaguely remember that I got prepped to investigate and that I got to the bomb, but then... Nothing".

She could see that all this weighed heavy on Jordan, so she placed a hand on his shoulder and said softly, "You probably got out of there just in time as it went off... Perhaps you got so lucky that somehow your molten clothes were torn off before they could do any damage to your body. Maybe the sergeant will tell us more when he wakes up".

For a moment, Jordan got angry when she said that but he quickly brushed it off. They agreed that he would try to catch some sleep and that she would come and get him when Sergeant Miller woke up. As the nurse walked off, she looked back over her shoulder at Jordan who was now lying down. Something wasn't right. He wasn't telling her something, she thought.

(***)

Jordan couldn't get any sleep. He kept thinking about everything that had happened and tried to recall the blank spots in his mind.

How did he manage to survive? If he remembered correctly, he was right on top of the bomb. There shouldn't be anything left of him. He asked himself if all that had happened was his fault. Did he kill his friend and fellow soldiers? Was it his fault that the other two survivors were lying here, wounded?

These thoughts and questions prevented him from getting any real rest. When he tried to focus his mind on sleeping, there was always something that shook him awake. A strange urge to do something. Something that he absolutely couldn't afford to forget, like remembering an appointment with a doctor. Despite all of this, he was exhausted. So eventually, without him trying, he felt his eyelids closing.

When he finally succeeded in getting a few hours of sleep, he was suddenly woken up by a short but loud scream. He found himself standing over the sergeant, fists clenched.

"Parrish, for God's sake! On top of this, you want to give me a heart attack?" the sergeant said, whilst gesturing to himself.

He had woken up, seeing Jordan standing over him with an empty look in his eyes. Jordan didn't know how to respond. Had he been sleepwalking? Great, that's just what he needed he thought.

"I'm sorry, sir. I... I wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing", he made up on the spot. He looked to the ground when he continued, "The nurse told me what happened... Or at least, how everyone was doing. And who didn't make it..".

The sergeant sat up straight looked to the ground as well because he knew what Jordan was talking about. "Yes, I've heard the news as well," he said quietly. He straightened his face and looked Jordan straight in the eyes, "Parrish, none of this is your fault. Do you hear me? It's a real tragedy what happened back there, but you can't take the blame for that. This is what everybody here signed up for".

Jordan was surprised by the sergeant sudden change of mood. He shouldn't be, because this wasn't the first time that his superior had lost some good men.

Jordan met his gaze and said "How did this happen? Do you know what happened before the blast? I can't seem to remember anything right after I went to check on the bomb".

The sergeant took a breath and sighed deeply, "I'm sorry, Parrish but all I remember is you getting over to the bomb. When private Calavera lost it, we had to contain him. Hennison must have lost control over him because suddenly I was hit in the head. The bastard really wanted to get to you".

Jordan looked questioningly at him. "What do you mean contain him? Did he freak out or something?"

"You could put it like that, yes. To me, the man looked like he belonged in an insane asylum. If he wasn't already put under, I'd be knocking him out myself", he said angrily.

There was a short silence between the two men until Jordan asked sheepishly " So, you really don't remember anything?".

"I'm sorry, Parrish but I really don't", he answered truthfully.

For some reason, this made Jordan relax a bit. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding in.

"I'm just glad you got out okay, private", the sergeant continued, "I don't know how, but it's a goddamn miracle that you made it out unharmed".

The two of them exchanged a few smiling looks at one another before Jordan turned around, headed back to his bed. He felt relieved for some reason and thought he could now get some decent amount of sleep.

He sat down on his bed and thought about what his superior told him. _We had to contain him_. Why had he freaked out? Did he know the bomb was gonna go off? He laid back and said to himself that no matter what the nurses will tell him, he just had to talk to Calavera. He _needed _to. He had to know what happened. He had to know what _he _knew.

He felt himself slowly slipping into sleep, feeling the tiredness taking over. Yet unbeknownst to him, his eyes were no longer a bright greenish color. Just before his eyelids closed, they had changed to a burning fiery orange.


	3. Chapter 3: so it begins

It wasn't until the late afternoon when Jordan woke up. The sky was already beginning to darken. Apparently, his body was more exhausted then he'd originally thought and he really needed the rest. Next to his bed, he found some fresh clothes so he didn't waste time and put them on. He couldn't wait to finally get some bearing on what had happened. Although, that meant talking to Calavera. That was not going to be as easy as he thought, because he wasn't allowed to talk to him yet.

_I have no choice_, he thought. _If I'm ever going to find out what happened, the only option I have is talking to him. What do I have to lose? _

He was suddenly distracted by a letter, lying on the table next to his bed. It had the military seal on it. He could already imagine what it was.

From the moment he opened the seal and took out the first half of the letter, he already knew what he was facing: "Honorable discharge".

A part of him was angered because he was basically being kicked out of the army because no one knew what had happened to him. No one would say that what had happened was his fault, but him being the only one without a scratch did raise some questions.

However, a part of himself also felt kind of relieved. He was wasting his time here anyway, he thought angrily. A stern brow formed on his face, as he said to himself that maybe he was meant for other things. Other ways to help people. The funny thing was that he actually thought that this was the best way to help the ones who needed it the most. Why this sudden change of thoughts? His mind was making him dizzy and it didn't help that he had just woken up. He couldn't deal with this right now. He focused his breath and got his priorities straight: Calavera.

Fully dressed, he got out of his bed and stood up straight. He took in his surroundings, only to find that little had changed over the last couple of hours. Fewer men were lying in the hospital beds, but other than that everything seemed the same.

No nurses were paying any attention to him, other than the nurse who took care of him. As they locked eyes, she gave Parrish an understanding nod. It was only logical that she knew about the discharge. She probably had put the letter on the table.

He smiled back at her and turned around, heading out of the med base.

For a few seconds, Parrish had no idea what to do first. Would he have to sign out? Wave his commander in charge goodbye? Instead, he just stood there in de middle of his now ex-military base.

Then, it was like his legs started moving on their own. It wasn't long until his mind followed. He smelled the air while he was walking towards a building where they kept the more severe medical cases until they are well again.

As he got to the door, he was stopped by a fellow soldier who was guarding this wing of the camp. "Evening, Parrish", he said without much emotion.

Jordan kept staring at the door but stopped moving. "I've heard about the discharge", he continued with a sad tone. "I'm sorry, Jordan...", he ended whilst looking at the ground.

Jordan copied this behavior and also looked at the ground. "I'm sorry to bother you with this, private", Jordan ignored the soldier's condolences and started, "but given the circumstances, do you think you could look the other way for once? I'm not supposed to be, but I want to check up on... Miquel before I am forced out of the camp" he said without a change in his demeanor.

It was also the first time since he had met Calavera that he had said his first name aloud. The other noticed this as well but didn't really pay much attention to it. He was rather a bit creeped out by the way his ex-militarybrother was acting.

He knew Jordan as this sweet and caring guy who would probably die for the people he cherished. This Jordan was suddenly very cold and non-responsive. He hadn't even looked at him once. Maybe he was ashamed of what had happened, the man thought.

There followed a silence, which was beginning to agitate Jordan until the soldier just smiled and said: "I'm going to miss you around here, Parrish. Be safe". With that, the soldier turned around and didn't look back until he was around the corner.

Jordan hadn't moved until the soldier had disappeared behind the corner, but he had come to his senses. It was like he suddenly got the steering wheel back from someone who was driving his body. Not wanting to give in to the ideas of him going crazy, he opened the door en came to a full stop when the door closed behind him.

He froze once more, eyes wide open and his facial features returned to their cold state, like whatever he was doing at that moment meant nothing to him. This wasn't Jordan anymore. This was something else.

It looked around slowly, then closed its eyes for a few seconds when it suddenly looked above him and went up to the stairs.

When it got to the second floor, it stood still for a few seconds. It was staring into an empty hall with closed doors on each side. There was little light; only the last sunrays of the day were giving their best to provide illumination in the darkening hallway. The electric lights were only used when it got fully dark. This was to prevent unnecessary use of power.

There were no nurses on this floor. Probably because there was only one patient on this floor and he didn't need someone constantly checking up on him. In all fairness, the nurses didn't want to get too near this patient. He had become quite aggressive over the past hours so nobody came too close if not absolutely necessary.

'Jordan' sniffed the air a few times, looked towards the door at the end of the hallway and started to walk towards it.

As he arrived at the door, he listened in on any sounds that might come from the floor below or the room in front of it. Nothing.

He raised his hand to the doorknob and slowly opened the door. Nothing to see but darkness. The curtains were closed so no light entered the room. The nurses might've done this due to prevent over-exposure to bright sunlight, which might agitate Miquel even more.

'Jordan' entered the room and stood still in the middle of the room. It reeked of sweat, fear and strangely enough; anger.

With a loud bang, the door was suddenly slammed shut revealing Miquel standing behind it, with a sharp piece of wood in his hands.

'Jordan' wasn't fazed at all. He didn't even move a muscle, other than slowly looking to the wooden closet left of him. It showed cracks and pieces missing. It was obvious where Miquel got his 'weapon' from.

It suddenly got even quieter in the room. The only sound which could be heard was the breathing of the terrified man, who was still staring at the back of his ex-companion.

He was overwhelmed with the 'eerie feeling' he had experienced a few days ago. "How are you holding up, Miquel?", 'Jordan' asked suddenly.

There was something strange about the way he spoke. It was like another person was speaking at the same time in the back of his throat.

The other was taken aback by this sudden question. "Don't you move", Miquel answered threateningly, yet full of terror. "You may fool everyone else here, but I know what happened back there. I saw it all", he continued.

'Jordan's' muscles tensed at that, which caused Miquel to grab his wooden stake even tighter.

"Well, that just happens to be the reason why I'm here", 'Jordan' answered in a sinister yet calm tone.

Still not giving away any emotions on his face. He slowly turned around, ignoring Miquel's physical threats towards him.

"What DID you see, Miquel?", 'Jordan' asked whilst still slowly turning around.

"I saw YOU", Miquel responded. "I somehow knew what was coming. I had seen it before and I was going to be right again this ti-",

"What did you see?" 'Jordan' interrupted with a louder voice.

He was now fully facing his former companion, although the latter could not really make out 'Jordan's' face in the darkness.

Miquel had to fight the urge to close his eyes and lie down. Fear was trying to make itself master over him. He was shivering and sweating profusely but remained in charge of his body.

He fixed his gaze on where Jordan's eyes should be and said: "You shouldn't be... You should've died".

'Jordan' slowly began moving towards his friend repeating the same question, only with a lower voice: "What did you see?".

At first, Miquel was shivering. He didn't dare to look at his former friend when he stopped in front of him but quickly regained his footing and looked up.

"Perro del Infierno", was all he managed to get out.

'Jordan' didn't move but just stared at Miquel who prepared himself for the worst.

Then, Miquel's knees weakened at the sight of Jordan's eyes lighting up his face with an orange glow. 'Jordan' lifted his right hand and Miquel could vaguely see claws starting to grow from his fingertips. "To maintain balance, secrecy is required", the hellhound suddenly spoke up.

He stared into those eyes for what seemed like minutes, realizing what the creature in front of him was about to do before he came to his senses and remembered the wooden stake in his hand.

As quickly as he could, he lifted his arm and struck down with the stake pointing towards Jordan's neck.

Within a fraction of a second, his wrist was caught mid-air and he had trouble breathing.

He had never seen Jordan's, now clawed, hand going for his throat.

'Jordan' lifted him up with ease and threw him to the other side of the room, leaving two scratch-marks on his neck.

He had hit the curtains which had caused them to break off and fall. The setting sun shone the last of her rays over the horizon, into the room causing even more fear to bubble up in Miquel. He could now see 'Jordan' much clearer but that was not anything to cheer for.

As he came closer, he saw how the last of Jordan's teeth turned into enormous fangs, the weird rocky-structure of his still growing claws and his crackling skin from his arms and hands which was beginning to darken and give off great amounts of heat. The faint smell of burning fabric entered his nose, but he already knew where that was coming from.

Acting out of instinct and without thinking, he grabbed the wooden stake which was lying next to him and jabbed it towards Jordan's lower body.

He smiled at first when he saw that the stake had pierced Jordan's abdomen, but his grin quickly turned into a look of horror because the hellhound wasn't fazed by it in the slightest and he saw that it had only gone in a few inches. Not a single drop of blood was visible and he then shrieked when the stake suddenly burst into flames, burning his hand severely.

Jordan looked down to his barely aching wound and made a scoff-like sound, which sounded more like a patronizing growl. He took the burning stake and pulled it out of himself without a second thought. Again, Miguel noticed there was no blood but instead there was running some extremely hot and orange substance out of the wound right before it closed itself up.

Miquel was then suddenly lifted by his throat again, pinned against the wall. He grabbed Jordan's arm with his not-burned hand but to no avail.

He was being held up high, his feet not touching the floor. He looked into Jordan's eyes, searching for any trace of his friend to which he could beg to spare his life.

There was no point. If his friend really had been taken by a hellhound, there was nothing left of him.

The only thing which was visible in the hellhound's eyes was a fiery rage. Besides, It wasn't like he could speak even if he wanted to. He was being strangled by one of the most powerful supernatural creatures in existence. Just as he was beginning to lose consciousness, he asked himself how he even knew that. He then was dropped to the floor, taking a deep breath before passing out.

\- **Change of POV** -

This wasn't something he wanted to do, but more like a necessity. It would've only taken a couple of more seconds before Miquel wouldn't have been able to tell anyone about what he had seen.

But then, it happened. He felt it coming, seconds before it reached him: a giant shockwave of power rushing through the ground, caressing him as it passed.

It was so much raw power, powerful enough to get every living creatures attention which was slightly attuned to the supernatural. Yet no one else in the camp noticed anything.

He dropped the now unconscious man, knowing that he wasn't dead yet but that didn't matter anymore now. He walked towards the window with a slightly worried and angry look in his burning eyes.

"Fools", the hellhound growled with a deep, rumbling voice.

He didn't even look at Miquel again but instead just walked out of the room, passing nurses who were finally coming to check out what the ruckus was all about. They might have yelled his name, well not HIS name, but he didn't even register it.

He walked outside and put his now clawless human hand on the ground for a few moments. A low growl came deep from within his chest as he focused and tried to find the source of the power surge.

He then stood up, looking at the horizon with a stern look on his face. He was lost in thought for a few seconds but then decided he'd give control back to the human for now. He was going to rest, for it had been a few 1000 years that he had walked on the face the earth and not all of his strength had followed him here yet. He had a feeling he was going to need all of it. But he'd have to guide the human if he wanted to get where he needed to go.

With an almost palpable shift in the air, Jordan regained his senses not knowing why he was outside again and why it was suddenly dark. He was confused to the max, yet something told him that he needn't worry. That everything was well now. That he NEEDED to leave. He then went to the shuttle service and tagged along on the first ride to the city.

He was going home.


	4. Chapter 4: The arrival

**First of all, I'd like to apologize for updating so late. It's been a busy few months for me with finals and having to retake some of them... But I'm back with a fresh mind and ready to start writing again!**

It wasn't until two days later that Jordan set foot again on American soil. He was happy to be away from all that had happened. His flight had been quite pleasant, with being set up in first class and all. He had taken that as a final wave from his superiors, for they had arranged everything to go as smoothly as possible.

Jordan knew better ofcourse. He knew that they just wanted to make sure he got on that plane and never came back. He found it odd, that they didn't ask any further questions as to what happened on that faithful day. Perhaps they just really didn't want anybody to raise questions on how they treat their soldiers or worse; they didn't want anybody to find out that three soldiers had died because of another being 'careless'.

The more Jordan thought about it, the more it slipped from his mind. Other things kept suddenly popping up in his head. Like where to head next, what to do now or who to visit first. On that last thought, he had an answer right away: No one. He had no one. No brothers or sisters, no parents and no other next of kin he knew about. That was one of the main reasons he signed up for duty. He wanted to help people, but he also wanted companionship. As he was beginning to think back on his time served in the army, another thought was being forced into the front of his mind. Shelter. Yes, he needed to find a motel or something to rest for the night as it was already dark when he exited the plane. Luckily, the airport provided some information on where to find some cheap motels or perhaps even a bed and breakfast. He chose the first because it wasn't like he was carrying bags of gold with him to spend on expensive hotels. He picked out a cheap motel not too far from the airport and got in a cab.

"Cozy", was the first thing Jordan said sarcastically when he entered his room.

He was exhausted. He wasn't able to sleep on the airplane due to the many thoughts rumbling inside his head, so he didn't really care that his room wasn't the fanciest of them all. It had a kingsized bed, a small bathroom and a -if you could call it that- kitchen with a small stove and refrigerator.

He closed the door and dropped the bag with his clothes, which he had bought in a little shop at the airport, on his bed. He still couldn't believe he had forgotten his bag with his own clothes and other belongings at the base.

Without much further ado, he sat down on his bed and laid down. He didn't even bother to take off his clothes. He just closed his eyes and let sleep take over. Just before he drifted off, he tried one more time to comprehend all that had happened. Nothing. Like trying to open a locked door. He felt like he was being lulled to sleep by an invisible force. He didn't fight it of course. He was tired as hell after all.

A few minutes after Jordan had fallen asleep, a deep growling rumble filled the room.

The hellhound had awakened.

Its eyelids shot open, revealing fiery orange glowing eyes that partially lit up the room. The hellhound sat up straight and looked around.

It sniffed the air and simultaneously listened for any strange or alarming noises.

When all seemed safe, it stood up and slowly walked towards the small bathroom. Once inside, it looked in the mirror to the face of Jordan Parrish.

The hellhound was inspecting Jordan's face with care when it suddenly opened its mouth and let his fangs come out. Satisfied, it looked down to Jordan's hands and without so much as a tremor it let enormous rock-like claws come out of the fingertips.

Raising its hands, it looked at its claws and dragged them across Jordan's face. The clawmarks that were left behind immediately started to give off a certain amount of heat. The hellhound almost looked pleased when the inside of the self-given wounds started to slowly burn and close until eventually there were no more clawmarks to be seen.

Next, the hellhound took off the jacket Jordan was wearing and held up its arm. He was staring at it with a look of determination, but nothing happened. It snarled out of anger and tried, whatever it was doing, again. Its eyes burned an even brighter orange and suddenly Jordan's arm began to give off incredible amounts of heat. The air around the arm was visibly beginning to twist because of it.

The hellhound was now staring at Jordan's face as if it was still waiting for something to happen but to no avail.

It lowered the arm and sighed with a low growl. Then suddenly, it turned around and headed towards the tiny kitchen next to the bathroom.

Without hesitation, the hellhound quickly turned on the stove and set it to the maximum capacity. Blue flames were spewing out, waiting for a pan or kettle to be placed upon.

The hellhound then lifted up the same arm from a few moments ago and placed it almost against the burning stove.

The blue flames were licking Jordan's arm severely and hungrily but to no avail. There were no burn wounds. There was no pain.

With something that almost resembled a smile, the hellhound lowered Jordan's arm and turned off the stove. It seemingly relaxed for a few seconds before suddenly sniffing the air.

With a twist, it looked towards the door and growled lowly.

When the hellhound was at the door, it could hear silent breathing and the rapid pounding of a heart. Without any warning, it yanked open the door revealing a startled woman who looked to be about 30-ish years old.

"Oh god!" she yelled. When she regained her footing she said; "My apologies, sir. I wasn't eavesdropping or anything but I am renting the room downstairs and I thought I heard some strange noises coming from here".

The hellhound didn't answer her and just kept on staring into the woman's eyes.

"Noises like... Growls", she continued. She wasn't scared but she also wasn't sure as to who or what she was dealing with. She tried looking into Jordan's room but was quickly met by his threatening gaze.

The hellhound was still fixating his gaze on the woman's eyes, like he was trying to figure something out.

The woman noticed this and tried to avoid his eyes and tried to change the subject. "Well, I must have been imagining things", she said laughingly. She was beginning to walk away when she continued "Although I could've sworn that...", whilst subtly trying to sniff Jordan's body odor. She suddenly had a hard time trying to breathe and noticed the clawed hand around her throat.

-**change of POV-**

Seeing the woman standing in front of him scratched something in the back of the hellhound's mind. She had a certain scent that it was familiar with but it couldn't put its finger on it.

She was supernatural, that much was certain. So the hellhound tried remembering. But it had been so long.

The woman was rambling about growls, but the hellhound didn't really register it. No, it was more interested in finding out what kind of creature was standing in front of him. Perhaps its memories came with the power that had yet to manifest itself completely.

The woman was about to leave when the hellhound saw her sniffing him and trying to be subtle about it. That was all the confirmation it needed. He knew what she was.

Within the blink of an eye, it launched forward and grabbed the woman by the throat whilst letting its claws come out.

Grabbing the hellhound's arm, the woman looked terrified into its eyes. She was about to demand that he let her go immediately when she was suddenly paralyzed by fear.

The hellhound let his eyes burn bright with the typical fiery orange and brought its face closer to hers.

"Wolf", it said with a low growling voice.

At that, the woman's eyes shone a bright golden color. She let her claws come out and started snarling and digging them in the arm that was holding her captive.

The man in front of her didn't react to that in the slightest. Instead, he simply growled louder and squeezed harder.

She stopped squirming and held on to the man's arm.

"Please..." was all she was able to get out. She then was dropped down and was able to breathe again.

She looked up, into the hellhound's burning eyes and asked; "What are you...?"

The hellhound didn't respond but just kept on staring menacingly at her. She could see the wounds on his arm were almost completely healed but were still... Burning? She almost couldn't believe her eyes but then again, she had never encountered such a creature before.

She felt that it was subconsciously threatening her to get out of here and leave him be.

Without a second thought, the woman got up and ran for her room to pack up and hit the road.

The hellhound went back inside the room after making sure the woman wasn't coming back and sat down on the bed. There was just one more thing it had to do. He couldn't have Jordan keep on trying to remember what had happened. That would become a nuisance after a while, constantly flooding his mind with random thoughts to prevent him from remembering.

He laid down and closed its eyes. He subconsciously looked for Jordan until he found him and entered his dream.

Jordan's dream was all chaos. Different images all presenting themselves at the same time and then disappearing without a trace.

The hellhound had to do something about this, or the human would lose his mind after a while. It focused his attention on Jordan's mind and sent a wave of calmness through him. As if on cue, the dream itself slowed down as well.

The explosion, the possession itself, the talk with Calavera and everything that had happened until now was bubbling up in Jordan's mind. For the time being, the hellhound could not have that. Perhaps one day, the human would be ready but this was not the time.

Like almost with an invisible wave of its hand, the hellhound sent down an impenetrable veil on these memories.

The hellhound also gave Jordan a new sense of purpose. He made him look forward, which would keep him from asking questions as to why he couldn't all of a sudden remember his time in the army more clearly. It would also help with guiding Jordan to the place they needed to go.

For now, the hellhound wasn't needed anymore so it got back into the background and let Jordan have his well-earned rest.

**I had thought about this while watching the show; if the hellhound can take over Jordan's body while he is asleep, did it do it before? I imagine it did so yeah. You might have noticed me playing around with the pronouns "it" and "he". Jordan and the hellhound are technically still two different characters, so that's why I tried something with that. If it's rather annoying, please let me know and I'll choose one.**

**Q out.**


	5. Chapter 5: The road ahead

It wasn't until two P.M. in the afternoon when Jordan woke up. He felt a little bad because he normally doesn't sleep in as long. He's more of a wake-up-early-get-stuff-done kind of guy.

Although, he had to admit he felt ten times better than the day before. So he wasn't about to beat himself up for sleeping as long when it was clear he really needed it. He sat upright on the bed and took a deep breath.

He noticed instantly that his head felt ten pounds lighter. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead whilst smiling.

He felt relieved, but he wasn't really sure what for. There was nothing he could come up with that had troubled him in such a way.

He wondered if maybe he'd have one of those dreams who end in such a nice way that you wake up with that same joyful feeling. If only he could remember what the dream was about.

All he knew for sure, was that there was this dull fading ache in the back of his head. Like the aching feeling when you pull out a thorn of your finger. A good kind of pain. Even though he didn't understand why he felt this way, he was glad that he did.

He got up on his feet and walked towards the small bathroom. He looked into the mirror and said to himself: "Let's go", with a smile.

Not a minute later, Jordan had put on an old radio and switched to a local music station. While nodding his head to the beat of the song, he got out of his clothes and jumped into the cramped shower.

As is typical for most people, a tiny voice in his head immediately started nagging about the size of it.

He smiled and said out loud: "Oh well, everything's better than what I got in-", he stopped.

His mind momentarily switching to his now-former life. That's right, he was just discharged. For a second, he was getting lost deep in thoughts but then he instantly bounced back to the moment.

The feeling of purpose and happiness flooding his head again. He smiled and turned on the shower. He closed his eyes and said: "At least it's hot water".

When he got out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stood in front of the mirror once more.

He wiped the mirror dry and he thought about the fact that he didn't have any kind of food with him. He'd have to go to a local shop of some sort. His train of thought was stopped when he noticed something particular.

His left arm. There used to be a scar on it. It was gone.

The first year when he was out in the field, he got hit by some shrapnel from an exploding bomb. He had been given rest for a few weeks to recover and heal, he never was in any life-threatening situation because of it but the wound had left quite the noticeable scar.

He might have been out of it these last couple of hours, but a scar disappearing? Jordan rubbed the place on his arm where the scar used to be. "What in the.." he said quietly.

His mind was going in overdrive, trying to remember if the scar had been there the day before or if it had gone already.

All of a sudden, he wasn't even sure if there was a scar in the first place. Yes, that was probably it.

He remembered now. How could he have forgotten? Memories that were new to him suddenly raised up to the front of his mind.

Nurses telling him that the wound would be visible for a while but it would... Wouldn't leave a scar. Jordan felt stupid that he could forget such a thing.

He realizes that he had been staring at his arm for a few minutes now. He snapped out of this weird state of mind and dried himself off.

When he was getting dressed, it occurred to him again that there wasn't anything to eat. The last thing he ate was at the airport and it wasn't anything nutritious. Since there wasn't any kind of shop in the near vicinity, he made a mental note to stop by a gas station to pick up something tasty.

(***)

The car ride felt freeing. It had been a long time since he'd been in one without having to worry about his surroundings. His window was opened all the way down because the air-conditioning was apparently broken. Not that it mattered to him.

He felt ecstatic. Blue skies, not a cloud in sight, and a highway clear of cars. Which meant he could afford to loosen up a bit; one arm on the wheel and the other on the frame of his rolled-down window.

Jordan smiled while he closed his eyes for a brief moment and took in the welcoming smell of grass and the trees. Even just the breeze storming in through his window made him smile. He had forgotten how good those things smelled and felt.

A desert is far less appealing, he thought. There are no trees and nice smelling grasslands. The air itself there feels musky.

He didn't remember experiencing these smells as intense though. It was like he was smelling them for the first time. Like, actually noticing them. Even the air felt softer than usual.

He wasn't bothered by it in the least though. In fact, he was relishing this experience. He took in another deep whiff when his eyes shot back open. He smelled meat being grilled.

"No way", Jordan said to himself. He couldn't believe his luck. He slowed down the car and began frantically looking around on both sides on the road to see where the smell came from. Nothing.

It smelled like someone was grilling right around the corner, but there was nothing in sight just yet. He couldn't quite see over the horizon, as the road went slightly uphill. So maybe the place had to just yet reveal itself. Or so he thought.

After another five minutes of driving, there was coming a house of some sort in view. Jordan released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He was quite hungry and he was really waiting for when the source of the smell would make itself known. He amped up the speed and saw, what appeared to be an old gas station, closing in.

When Jordan parked his car at one of the gas pumps, he got out and looked around. Nothing out of the ordinary, he thought. The building could use a new layer of paint or maybe just placing a whole new building was the better option. Who is he to judge?

Standing next to the entrance of the building, which he now saw served as a shop, was an old lady. Apparently, she was the one responsible for spreading the tempting smell he was following.

She had a small stature. But stood straight in a way that made you have respect for her. She had grey hair and was wearing a pink flower dress.

Taking a closer look, Jordan saw that she was grilling all sorts of meat. Ranging from hamburgers to hot-dogs. Without even asking for the price or how much he wanted, he just stared at the meat and took out his wallet. The old woman noticed this and smiled.

"I can see someone's quite hungry, aren't you young man?". Jordan was startled by this and said; "I-uh-I'm sorry ma'am. Hello, how are you doing".

The woman, who looked to be about around 75, just kept on smiling at Jordan with a genuine expression. "I'm so sorry, again", Jordan smiled.

He continued, "I am not this rude normally, it's just that it's been so long since I've eaten something that smelled as good as this".

The old woman flipped a few burgers and laughed; "Well there's no need for flattery, my boy. What's your name?"

Jordan laughed at that and said; "No flattery ma'am. It seems like ages ago that I was anticipating a meal this much. And the name's Jordan Parrish".

"Well, Jordan" the woman said, "Why don't we get you started with a juicy beef hamburger and we'll see from there?". Jordan eagerly accepted the hamburger she handed him and immediately dug in.

Whilst devouring the hamburger like a famished stray dog, Jordan saw the woman smiling at him.

There was something strange about her. Not in a bad way though. No, strangely soothing he thought. Her presence made him feel at ease. So much that he didn't worry about trying to use basic table manners.

"You can call me Becca, by the way", the woman said suddenly.

Remembering that he never asked for her name, Jordan swallowed the last bite of his burger and said in an embarrassed tone; "Oh my God what's wrong with me".

Becca handed him a napkin and laughed. "Don't you worry about nothing, Jordan. I can see you are still going through a lot".

Jordan wiped his mouth with the napkin and stared with a questioning face. What did she mean by that?

"I don't mean to pry, but you were stationed in Afghanistan am I correct?"

Jordan smiled and said; "Yes. What gave it away?"

"I've had my fair share with war", Becca said. "The people that return usually act… Differently, when returning home. Some might say animalistic" she continued.

When Jordan wanted to ask what she meant by animalistic, he saw that she was kindly gesturing at his mouth and hands, which were still covered in sauce.

"You might be right, ma'am", Jordan laughed.

"Call me Becca, dear. I'm always informal with friendly spirits and I can tell that you aren't that bad of an egg". She said smilingly.

A short silence between them followed, but it wasn't awkward. She kept staring him straight in the eyes. Like she was reading a page out of an exciting novel. He didn't question it. In fact, it strangely felt comforting.

After what seemed like minutes, Becca broke eye-contact and said; "So, do you need another", gesturing at her grill, "or anything else?".

Returning to the here and now, Jordan cleared his throat and said; "No thanks Ma-I mean Becca. I think I should get going, I got a long way ahead of me". Jordan took out his wallet once again and grabbed some money out of it.

"No payment needed, honey", Becca said whilst holding her hands on Jordan's.

"Becca please, you've been so kind. I don't even need to gas up my car, so let me pay for the burger at least", Jordan pleaded.

He saw her looking at him with a stern, yet kind face. He realized he had already lost this discussion. While smiling, he put his wallet back and said;" Thank you very much. Not just for the burger, but just… Letting me get at ease for a moment".

"No worries, Jordan. It's always a pleasure to meet kind strangers such as yourself", she said.

"And about you having a long road ahead, just follow your instincts. It will tell you where you need to go. Where you need to be". She continued with a smile.

Somehow, that actually soothed a lingering anxiety he didn't know he'd been having. After a final nod, Jordan placed his refolded napkin next to the grill and walked back to his car. After getting in and starting the car. He waved Becca a final goodbye and drove back on the highway.

Becca waved him goodbye from where she stood until his car was out of sight. Her smile dropped and turned into a concerned frown. "15 dollars for a burger is a bit too much, don't you think", a voice asked from inside the house.

"What on earth are you talking about, Frank", Becca asked absently.

Exiting the house was an older man, around 70 years or so, wearing a white shirt and an old pair of jeans. "Check the napkin, darling", Frank said.

Confused, Becca took the folded napkin and opened it. A 10 and a five-dollar bill were neatly placed inside. She smiled and looked in the direction that Jordan had been driving.

"Seemed like a good kid", Frank continued.

"He sure as hell is", Becca answered.

"Speaking of", he said, "Is he the one?".

A short silence followed. Becca tucked away the 15 dollars and the answered; "No doubt about it. If I couldn't see it in his eyes, then his aura would've betrayed him".

Frank looked up in the same direction as his wife and sighed. "Does he know?", he asked.

"No, his mind has been clouded and temporarily redirected. Until he's ready, he will not notice".

Frank stared at his wife and said; "I know I'll regret asking it, but how do you know that?"

"It told me", she said in a cold voice. "The hellhound spoke".

Frank didn't question this at all but instead fired a range of questions at Becca. "What did it say? Did it say why it's here? Why has it returned".

"It paid it's respects to me", she said softly. "As for an explanation, it didn't need to".

"What do you mean by that, honey?", Frank asked calmly yet with suspicion in his voice.

"I hoped I was wrong, but this confirms it", she said. "A few hours after I told you I felt a hound of hell emerging into our world, I was awoken by an immense surge of power".

"You can't possibly mean…", Frank said quietly.

"I'm afraid so", Becca said. "A nemeton has been awakened".

Frank closed his eyes in defeat and draped his arm over his wife's shoulder and sighed. "Well, we can only hope he'll be there in time".

"Oh he'll be there.", she said. "It's the carnage that follows that we have to worry about. For a hellhound does not rise without reason".

They both fell silent at that. After a few seconds, Becca closed her eyes and whispered; "_Please, protect the boy. You'll need each other_".

Somewhere along the highway, Jordan was smiling whilst driving the car when suddenly his eyes turned bright fiery orange.

His expression turned serious, he looked outside and said; "As you wish, lady sídhe". The voice that came out was low and deep. Almost like a second voice chimed in.

**First of all, my most sincere apologies for taking this long to update! I know it's been a while, but since I've been having more free time lately (why oh why) I'll be sure to update more. I hope you liked this part! Btw, "sídhe" comes from the Irish "Bean sídhe". ****That's all I'm gonna say about that ****?**


End file.
